


6000 Years

by MetaphorCheese



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23506186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetaphorCheese/pseuds/MetaphorCheese
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley have loved each other for 6000 years and will continue to love for 6000 more
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 16





	6000 Years

**Author's Note:**

> Based on "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri

> The day we met,  
>  Frozen I held my breath  
>  Right from the start  
>  I knew that I'd found a home for my heart  
>  Beats fast  
>  Colors and promises  
>  How to be brave?  
>  How can I love when I'm afraid to fall  
>  But watching you stand alone?  
>  All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow  
>  One step closer  
>  I have died everyday waiting for you  
>  Darling don't be afraid I have loved you  
>  For a thousand years  
>  I'll love you for a thousand more

It must have started, he supposed, on the wall of Eden.

Aziraphale had been so nervous. Eden had fallen, and he, who was supposed to have guarded the eastern gate, had not only allowed, but _encouraged_ the humans to escape -- with his own flaming sword, no less. He was honestly surprised that Up There hadn't reduced him to a pile of ash as soon as he left his post. As it was, he had stood upon the wall, watching with an anxious expression as Adam and Eve fled from Eden, fully expecting to be struck down by God. 

That, of course, didn't happen. Instead, he had been reassured by a _demon,_ of all things. He had felt the first rush of grateful relief in, well, ever. Angels weren't exactly well known for banishing doubts in other angels. Angels weren't even supposed to _have_ doubts, for that matter. 

But this demon… he had seen that Aziraphale was upset, had understood the reasons why, and, instead of using these worries to torment the angel as any other demon would do, he had actually _comforted_ him. 

Really, it was a nasty trick. How the hell was Aziraphale supposed to resist that? This demon (Crawly, as he was apparently called), had just succeeded in tempting Eve to forsake Eden, and then turned around and managed to provide a lonely angel with his first taste of compassion. It simply could not be avoided that the angel fell head over heels. 

Now, being in love with a demon was not going to be easy. In fact, Aziraphale forced himself to part ways for several decades, worried about what effect spending time with a resident of Hell would have on him. For centuries after, the pattern continued; angel and demon (now calling himself Crowley) would meet, converse, observe the humans, and move on, again and again. 

It wasn't long after they had both noticed the pattern that the Arrangement was made: as the only Heavenly and Hellish residents of Earth, Aziraphale and Crowley would look after each other in case of a situation where either one could become inconveniently discorporated. In addition, as they had become aware of how little anyone was monitoring their behavior, now and then, one would go to a mutually-assigned location to both perform a small miracle and tempt someone into something just on the other side of harmless. 

It was Crowley, surprisingly, that planted the first seeds of conflict in the angel's heart. 

They were discussing this and that over a particularly strong liqueur, just having a light conversation, until (and neither quite knows how) the subject of Crowley’s Fall from Heaven. 

“I never _meant_ to Fall, y'know. I didn't even Fall, I just kind of sauntered vaguely downwards.”

“But _how,_ Crowley?” Aziraphale pressed, concerned confusion evident in his voice as he gesticulated with his hand. “What happened that made you even ‘vaguely’ Fall?”

“I asked too many questions. Too many ‘why's. I was told to either blindly accept everything as part of the Great Plan or leave, and my friends told me to come with them.” Even though Aziraphale couldn't see his eyes, he knew Crowley's were filled with resentment and something that, if he didn't know better, he could only identify as longing. 

That's all it took for one to Fall? Aziraphale had always assumed that the residents of Hell had been cast Downwards for violent, undeniably evil deeds, but just asking questions? 

Aziraphale's eyes widened in fear as he thought of this that night, staring off at the stars as he sat alone on a hill. If asking questions was all it took to Fall, what would Up There think if they knew that he thought there had been a mistake made? If they knew that he had been spending quality time with a demon? 

If they knew that he loved one? 

“No, no. I absolutely refuse to Fall for him,” Aziraphale resolved, scolding himself. “This was simply a mistake in judgment, and I will surely be able to recover my senses in no time!” 

That is what he promised himself. However, like all idiotic resolutions, it took less than a year for him to break that promise. 

Some lowly priest had decided to make it his business to try and exorcize the entire village. This would have been fine, had he not decided to bless the well. 

Aziraphale had found Crowley choking in an alley, desperately trying to rid himself of the poison he had accidentally ingested. His hands and arms were speckled with burns from the holy water, and Aziraphale knew that, had the priest been just a bit more powerful, Crowley would have been destroyed the moment the holy water had been swallowed. 

And he was terrified. 

After transporting them both to Crowley’s rented room, Aziraphale poured his energy into the demon, _willing_ the blessed water to leave his system. He worked for hours, making sure to eliminate every drop of holy water, no matter the toll this much healing was doing to himself. 

He couldn't help but notice that no one came to help. Not one human had come by with soup or a kind word. Not one demon had so much as checked in on Crowley. 

As he laid beside the demon, tired in the way he didn't know angels could tire, he finally understood the situation he was in. 

He was all Crowley had. He was the only one who cared. If he was to Fall because he refused to see a friend in pain, so be it. 

And now, several centuries later, Aziraphale still agreed. He nuzzled closer to his demon, pushing his reading glasses further up his nose. 

He would gladly Fall for him.

> Time stands still  
>  Beauty in all she is  
>  I will be brave  
>  I will not let anything take away  
>  What's standing in front of me  
>  Every breath  
>  Every hour has come to this  
>  One step closer  
>  I have died everyday waiting for you  
>  Darling don't be afraid I have loved you  
>  For a thousand years  
>  I'll love you for a thousand more  
>  And all along I believed I would find you  
>  Time has brought your heart to me  
>  I have loved you for a thousand years  
>  I'll love you for a thousand more

Crowley only had one real complaint when it came to Aziraphale.

Now, he voiced all sorts of annoyances, real or as a result of posturing. Aziraphale spent too much time with his books. Aziraphale was far too resistant to modern technology (honestly, angel, where do you even _find_ oil lamps these days?). Aziraphale had no sense of schadenfreude, and was too easily offended when he laughed at someone's misfortune. 

But none of these were the real complaint. 

Aziraphale was too hesitant to speak his mind on important matters. 

When it came to what food to get or music to listen to, Aziraphale was quick to chime in with his opinion, but when it comes to fucking _being in love for six thousand years,_ he didn't say one blessed word. 

No, instead, he had made Crowley wait and pine for millenia. The demon couldn't simply tell him of his feelings. He was a demon, for Satan's sake. If he had told Aziraphale that he loved him, the angel would have thought he was trying to tempt him, to Fell an angel. 

But that just wasn't the case. 

Crowley was in love, though he seldom said it, even now that it was out in the open. If Hell found out that he still had the capability to love, he'd be destroyed. For that matter, if Heaven found out that he was trying to sustain a relationship with an angel, _they_ would destroy him. 

But Aziraphale was beautiful. His deep brown eyes were kind and knowing, as if he could read minds. His face, though he'd allowed it to become slightly weathered, still betrayed every facet of every emotion that the angel was feeling. His hands were warm and soft, the fingers thick and sporting perfectly manicured nails. Aziraphale was soft all around, and, though Crowley knew the angel wasn't terribly fond of that fact, the demon found it addictively adorable. Crowley loved that Aziraphale's body reflected the joy and tenderness that was stored inside. 

Crowley renewed the small amount of protection he could give the bookshop from demonic forces (excluding himself, of course). He no longer kept any sort of protection around himself or his belongings. He'd bathe in holy water before he let anyone hurt his angel. 

Shaking his head a little, Crowley lightly squeezed Aziraphale's shoulder, feeling the angel scoot closer. He smiled, despite himself. 

This was worth waiting for.

> I'll love you for a thousand more  
>  Ohh  
>  One step closer  
>  I have died everyday waiting for you  
>  Darling don't be afraid I have loved you  
>  For a thousand years  
>  I'll love you for a thousand more  
>  And all along I believed I would find you  
>  Time has brought your heart to me  
>  I have loved you for a thousand years  
>  I'll love you for a thousand more

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> Please drop me a comment and let me know what you think. I'm open to suggestions on improvements, future plot ideas, and am currently seeking out people to roleplay this pairing (and possibly Beelzebub/Gabriel as well).


End file.
